


Dresden of the Red Court

by acf151



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Car Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 22:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acf151/pseuds/acf151
Summary: Another night, when Harry couldn't get away, changed his whole life.  And the world.





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Five Times Harry Almost Fell Off the Face of the Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536089) by [acf151](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acf151/pseuds/acf151). 



> This fic goes in the direction I originally wanted to go in the first chapter of Five Times Harry Almost Fell Off the Face of the Earth but didn’t have time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caught - Bianca's POV

So this was the White Council’s black sheep. 

A tall young man waited in the passenger seat of a dark car parked at the end of the alley while a man of middling height got coffee at the diner down the block. Lights from a nightclub illuminated him in varying patterns of color and sound.

He was recently out from under the Blackstaff’s care. So far he had bounced from job to job before landing a gofer position at Ragged Angel. It was a pity I had not heard of him coming to Chicago earlier, Nicolas was teaching him to be careful. 

It is the dream of many vampires to blood a full-fledged wizard. The magic in their blood sparks across the senses with an aftertaste that coats the throat and lingers. Tragically, the chance for a Council member rarely comes up. More often, one must make do with undiscovered warlocks and those who are just coming into their power. With careful observation and planning, even untrained wizards of top potential can be taken.

My sire is particularly enamored of them and has such talents brought in specially. Sometimes, at revels, he will unseal the vault where his keeps his vintages and share them out. Sip, by slow sip. 

One way to make sure these precious individuals become and stay malleable is the proper application of our Kiss. However, with someone already wary and watchful, a straight kiss is unlikely to be successful. Fortunately, advance preparation prevents poor performance.

Nicolas got back to the car safely and he and young Dresden continued their surveillance. Both of them took full sips of their coffee and settled in for a long watch. Stakeouts can be dreadfully dull, especially at night. With the narcotic sedatives I had had added to their coffee, Nicolas was quickly and deeply asleep. On Dresden, the effect was a bit less quiet.

Usually, our saliva is best mixed with a natural soporific, like alcohol. Then the drowsiness is easily explained and usually not questioned by the victim. Even with coffee, most mortals just notice a languorous buzz. In wizards, with their sensitive senses, the caffeine and the narcotics go to war with each other. Young Dresden was out of the car and down the alley less than five minutes after his boss had fallen asleep. 

After he cleared most of the coffee from his system, the narcotic could go to work with better effect. Poor boy. I’m sure he only intended to sit down for a moment. 

My men were able to put young Dresden in the back of the van quite easily. He was too far gone to struggle even when I Kissed him deeply. 

I’m afraid I couldn’t resist. The skin in the mouth is so thin, so vulnerable. Paolo wouldn’t mind if I ascertained the vintage first, so long as I did not unduly damage him, even if it is impolite to offer an open bottle of wine. The boy would heal between now and then. A tiny nip and spicy, fiery copper coated my tongue, stars shot through my vision in ribbons. 

Never have I tasted anything like that before. Never. 

The sudden pain and disorientation quickly turned to fear. Young Dresden drew in a deep breath and started to struggle. I could hear his heart race as the adrenalin hit it and pumped freshly oxygenated blood to his legs. 

“Ma’am!” My man, Juan, gave a warning shout. They had not secured Dresden to the restraints in the floor. The fools had not even shut the door.  
He kicked out blindly, striking me in the face and falling out the back of the van on top of Juan.  
No child’s intoxicated staggering, no matter how long-legged, was going to deny me a vintage as special as that. 

Recovering quickly, I wrapped my hands around his throat and under his arm, jerking him back into the van, clasping my knees around his thighs. Juan saved his own blood by locking the shackles around the boy’s wrists and chaining his legs to the floor. Three minutes later, we were on our way back to the Velvet Room.

Young Dresden was a wreck. In his panic, he kept struggling and reaching for his magic. The shackles my sire provided for such cullings blocked his access to it. In a searing arc of frozen fire, Dresden kept seizing in my arms, trying to jerk away, trying to fight, only to collapse right back against me.  
His lips were still bleeding from my earlier attentions and I won’t deny, the slight chance of losing my prize added an unexpected spice to the night. I wanted to devour him, mind, body and soul. But first, he wanted calming. 

I settled him more closely, under my chin, and started shushing him softly and stroking his head. There was nothing I could do about my heartbeat, but I tried to make my chest breathe in some approximation of life. Little, soft kisses into his ear got still more saliva into his system that was gradually wearing down the adrenalin. Slowly, his thrashing calmed, but still Dresden shook with fear and tears soaked my blouse from his sniveling. 

After several minutes he managed to stutter out slowly, “P-please, let me go. Don’t kill me.” 

“Boy.” I whispered in his ear. “You are far too precious a kine to kill.” I made my voice quiet my filled with unquestioning authority. “I promise to take good care of you and give you a long and happy life. Surely that’s more than you’ll find on the streets. Out in the cold night.” With this last, I traced my tongue along the curve of his ear and down the length of his jaw. “What’s your name?”

“Harry.” This time his shudder had more desire behind it than fear. 

I lightly trailed my fingernails down his side and then brought the fingers of my fleshmask up firmly across his chest and then down towards his navel. “Harry. Hmm. Surely there’s more?” 

Harry opened his mouth as if to speak, but his voice caught in a gulp of air. His body was quickly becoming attuned to the Kiss, making him pliable and willing. A pothole jostled us both, but Dresden was too lost in the sensations to care. We were almost back to the Velvet Room; I wanted at least two of his names before we had to shift him through the house. And I needed him far more exhausted than he currently was. 

Laying him flat on the floor, I made certain that the chains attached to his legs were secure. The chains connecting the shackles hooked into eyelets by his sides. By the time I undid his trousers, he was ready.  
I love the secret folds and ways of women, don’t misunderstand me. But there is nothing so appealing as a man’s need. It’s so, insistent and vulnerable. I find it sweet to wrap my tongue around that long vein and squeeze just enough to make it swell with blood. A slight scrape of a tooth just to the underside after enough pressure…. I have discovered no faster way to own a man. 

Young Dresden proved little different, except perhaps in size. He’s a long man, after all.  
Fidel pulled us into the garage as Dresden finished. The boy was quickly losing consciousness, relaxed and spent. “Harry, tell me your name.”

“No.” It came out a sleepy mutter, rather than real defiance. 

“Harry, how can I take care of you, if I don’t know who you are?” 

He looked confused. His eyes were half closed, and I knew that he was still soaring gently from my Kiss. There had been something he had intended to worry about, wasn’t there? Something other than this bliss? “I’m not -.” He paused. “Who are you?”

A smile split my fleshmask. “Hello boy, I am Bianca. Who are you?” 

“I’m Harry Dresden.” I could feel the cadence ever so slightly off from how one said ones name in polite company. I had him.

“Harry Dresden.” I rolled the cadence over my tongue and felt that governing weight of power thrum through him. “How very nice to meet you.”


	2. Traveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling - Bianca's POV

It is a great comfort to have those one can trust beyond the restraints one has encouraged them to lie in. 

I run a business, after all, controlling the joy and relaxation of more than half of the powers in Chicago. Without Rachel, I don’t know how I could have taken this pilgrimage. She is competent enough to run the Velvet Room for the course of a week. I made certain of her loyalty before I left, however, I think it will help that young Harry will not be returning with me. Favorite pets get jealous too, I suppose.

Cargo planes and the backs of trucks are not the most pleasant way to travel, but really, there was little choice. At least my companion was exciting.

Harry was not a quiet houseguest. Several times over the week, he had all but escaped my house, even drugged to the eyes. What teacher had there been that taught the boy to fight off the body’s commands so thoroughly? Chains had quickly proven ineffective, as long as I was not there to command him. We had had strap his elbows to each other, behind his back and to devise a kind of stock for his hands, holding them firmly at his waist. His name and my will, in the end, was all there had been holding him. 

By Monday morning it was clear that I could not delay returning to Casaverde. If the boy was going to demand constant attention, he could at least do so productively. 

I had not drunk from him beyond that first taste, as is fitting for a proper tribute to my master. However just about everything else, that I had done. 

Harry glared at me blearily from across the vehicle. He had given up trying to access his magic. Frozen seizures that earn only an assault from a face of nightmares, seems to have had that effect. That first day, after he had awoken to find himself deep inside my home, well, I spent more time out of my fleshmask than not. He found it much better to cooperate and allow the illusion of beauty and human desire to smooth the inevitable. Still, I regretted the look in his eyes now, every time I came to him.  
But here we were, heading up into the mountains to Casaverde, home of my sire, Duke Paolo Ortega, husband of Duchess Arianna Ortega, granddaughter of his majesty the Red King.

“Where are you taking me?” He had not spoken in hours, resigned to lay sprawled against the bunk built into the side of the truck. 

“Your home. You are a gift for my sire, Ortega. He will take excellent care of you, so long as you behave.” 

“I want to return to Chicago.” Of course he did. The Blackstaff believed he was there, all the more reason to offer him as a tribute rather than keep him for myself. Paolo could keep him quietly, and there was little reason I would not be allowed to share in his blood on my few visits.

“Your home is here Harry. But do not fear. I’ll see you from time to time.” 

“I did not survive Justin and the Council and everything else just to be a plaything for the vampires.”

I smiled sweetly at him. “I have not kissed you in five hours. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve got some control back for the first time in days.”

“We will see how long that lasts.” The poor boy looked confused. No matter. He would find out how dependent he had become soon enough.

I got a surprising amount of paperwork done on that trip. I had expected Dresden to ask for more of my attention, for something to do, if nothing else. But no, he made it to eleven hours before fine tremors and shivering that belied the tropical climate started. By hour fourteen, he was having trouble breathing. “Can I help you with anything, Harry? You seem winded.” 

“No. We’re going uphill. The air’s stale, that’s all it is.”

“As you like.”

At twilight, we were far enough into my lord’s territory that he could send refreshment without fear of legal retribution. My lord had chosen a strong man on the far side of his thirties. He was relatively unmarked and walked freely without restraint or accompaniment. When he spoke, he was lucid and intelligent.

“My lord asked that I make your journey more comfortable, my lady. My name is Ortiz. Is there anything I can do for you?” And then he stood there, quietly, wearing only a brief wrap in the Mayan style.

I smiled. Clearly Ortega was playing a bit of a game with young Dresden, showing him the rewards of willing cooperation. We’d played this game before. “Secure Harry to the corner, then return to me.”   
Ortiz was lovely. I was careful not to be too gauche when drinking my fill and Ortiz proved entertaining in a number of ways. Most of all, he loved my kiss, participating fully and enthusiastically. 

For Dresden, shivering in the corner, desperate for a taste, Ortiz was quite a tease. The worst was probably when he simply climbed down out of the truck at the next stop. I knew he was likely riding upfront, but to Dresden it looked like freedom. 

He quivered there, sick with need, tired, and far from any hope of his old life.


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival - Ortega's POV

“Bianca, why did you bring him to me? If he is the Blackstaff’s protégé, that is a risk that could start a war with the White Council. We are not ready for that fight.” Duke Paolo Ortega had not risen to the heights he had by deliberately incensing his counterparts.

“He mentioned that he had survived the Council. It’s possible they won’t put up much fuss, and if the Blackstaff discovers he’s here, he can’t preemptively strike without hurting the boy. And that assumes they find out. I waited almost a week before leaving Chicago, there’s nothing that will connect me to his disappearance.” She looked coy, as if somehow her appeal or another gift of rare blood could make up for the political fiasco this was shaping up to be.

There is nothing worse than initiative in one’s offspring. Bianca is young enough to fidget when the silence draws on too long. That youth is an asset when it comes to dealing and connecting with the kine in business, not when it comes to greater matters. 

“Try him, my lord. He’s a strong mage, but young. He hasn’t had time to study more than a year or two. He can be controlled.” 

I regarded her sternly. “You brought me rare wine and then tasted him?” 

“It was a scratch he got when I first captured him. It has healed by now and I was sure to subdue him without marking or bruising him further.” 

A scratch initiated all this? The kine must be something special. I may as well go visit my new liability. 

The village of Casaverde has benefited well from my patronage. The people are not dependent on drug cartels for their living, there is no mine fields in the forests upon my mountain. Medical care and primary education is available, and no one starves or suffers the debilitating poverty that sends their children to the streets or textile factories from a young age. Most stay occupied with the mines or cottage agriculture, with occasional income from the bird trade. By enlarge, the villagers are fortunate, and they know this.

When feeding is necessary, a glamour ensures that the experience is pleasurable and without trauma. Most are addicted without their knowledge, and the few youngsters who have left have either returned within months, not knowing the source of their anxiety, or if they are determined a threat, have been quietly collected and dispensed with by a courtier closer to the coast. The Court keeps track of its most important resource: it’s vintages. 

They are perfectly happy to leave me at peace in my estate. Only my guards and the courtiers residing here are even aware of the vaults surrounding my inner courtyard. 

For nostalgic reasons, my Lady wife prefers to have her kine dress in the style of her Mayan culture. To please her, as well as for more practical reasons, I have styled my court after hers. Bianca had had the presence of mind to strip the boy and redress him in clothing as befit the climate. Unfortunately, she did not have the intelligence to recognize an article of faith when she saw one. 

***

The boy trembled there in the moonlight, tall, pale, nearly naked, save for his restraints, with a silver pentagram hanging from his neck. I could hear his heart beating double time in fear and withdrawal. At least the manacles I saw around his wrists would prevent him from using his magic. She had done that right. 

“Bianca. Hood him, and take the necklace off of him.” She moved from the shadows of the cloister to obey, leaving me in a position to watch without being seen.

The kine towered over her, so she had him kneel. Even kneeling, he was defiant, afraid, but defiant. Her hand came up and grasped the pendant and that’s when he struck. A small effort of will turned that piece of silver into a luminescent flare, burning Bianca horribly as she pulled it over his head. She fell to the floor as her prize arced away from her, shouting in pain, but using that pain to stumble to his feet. A special warlock indeed.

Before my guards could tackle him, Bianca cried out, “Harry Dresden! Stop!” in a voice of command. And the boy stopped. “Return to me.” She was clearly furious now. But the boy walked back those few precious yards and stopped at her side. She grabbed his wrist, still bound to the chain around his waist, to steady herself as she got to her feet.

Even in the low light, I could see his tremors get stronger. She clearly had not dosed him in some time, and the desire for her kiss must have been overwhelming. She grasped his throat with her clawed hand burnt free of its fleshmask and looked deep into his eyes. She held that, just long enough to ascertain that a soulgaze would not form, before pushing him to the ground and dragging the hood over his head. His heartbeat started a slow, agonized pound of fear. His defiance lessened.

Then she walked back to me, no longer subservient or placating. “He is a rare talent, my lord. He is worthy of your favor.” From her charred hand she dropped the pentagram at my feet.

Perhaps a vassal with enough presence of mind to gain a wizard’s name and enough strength of will to command him by it was worth cultivating further.

Leaving her, I stalked forward and circled her prize. This one would prove a long time in the breaking. But he was talented. My Lady wife required me to assemble a collection of mortal power to use for one of her pet projects. It may be that this Dresden could provide a fitting tribute, and prove my devotion. 

He would have to be broken. His strength might be a greater liability than the politics, but the long term benefits may make it worth the trouble. Short term, I only wanted a taste.

Straddling his back, I lifted the boy up against my chest. A quick tear of the hood allowed me access to the sensitive skin just behind the ear stretched taut over bone. I dragged my tooth sharply against that bone, leaving the boy no saliva to quench his thirst on. 

At the pain, he panicked and tried to move, but to no avail. I have held men stronger and heavier than him in my grip. His wizard’s blood pooled in the hollow behind his ear, and I sipped it quickly. 

Fire. He tasted like liquid fire. Warmth suffused my limbs and stars glowed in my vision. The boy was a power, a potential. The White Council had thrown him to the wind like so much chaff for my vassal to collect. 

In my victory, I forgot myself. I nearly had the hood off and his throat bared before I realized that I had ground him into the stone like a rutting boar. The strap separating his shoulders caught my blood reservoir with a broad cuff and jarred me out of feeding fully. Enough saliva had seeped through the cloth of the hood, and the boy was shuddering with a heady mix of terror, satiation and bliss. His heart still pounded in my ears. 

I looked over to my vassal and motioned her forward. “Bianca, come here.” Once she had knelt on the other side of the boy, I gripped her by the jaw. “Command him to give me his name.” A soft smile played over her lips. “Yes my lord.”

She turned to the boy. “Harry. My lord has given you what you needed. Address him and give him your name.” 

Even through the haze of pleasure he was feeling after so long denied, I could see the stubbornness and reluctance in him. Yes. He would take a long time to tame. It would be worth it.

The hood reared back, looking towards me, though there was nothing he could see. He stayed silent.

“Harry Dresden. Gift your name to my lord.”

“My name is Harry Dresden.” The cadence was just off what I expected.

“Is that all of it, Harry Dresden?” I felt the pull of that bedrock magic settle in his bones.

“No.” Truth, excellent.

“One day, you will give me all of it.” His body shuddered in denial. It seems the brief Kiss was wearing off. “Yes.” I replied. “You will.”

“Bianca.” She turned her eyes towards me. “I am pleased with the service you have done to my court. Please, refresh yourself with a cup of my best, and we shall return to our work.” I nodded in Dresden’s direction. 

Her eyes brightened with glee. She rolled the boy out of my arms, onto his back and flipped up the wrap that hung to his knees. She throated his length quickly and began slight nibbles that made the blood flow. 

After she had taken just a cup, she coated the cuts with her Kiss, and left the boy panting on the stones, still aroused, still clotting. Yes. She was the right vassal to run pleasure in Chicago.

Two guards dragged the boy behind us to a cell off the cloister. The cell had three alcoves, all empty. Strapping him in one of them, the guards set up a saline drip spiked with narcotics. It wasn’t as satisfying as our kiss, but it would hold him insensate until I had the time to deal with him.

***

At the top of the house, I keep a broad, partially enclosed veranda where I can watch much of the lower valley. I often conduct the business of the Court there. During the day thick woven screens keeps direct sunlight from the interior while still allowing the glow of sunshine through. It was an effective reminder of my power to most of my court, that I could withstand what they, in their youth and relative powerlessness could not. 

But now it was merely a pleasant place to retire. 

I could feel Bianca, alive with energy, from across the table. She was doing well, keeping the excitement off her face, but clearly her taste of the boy had lasted far beyond any other kine she had drunk from that night. 

“Bianca, do you know what we are doing here?”

“Ruling and raising the kine. Extending the Red Court’s power beyond this continent to others.”

“Indeed. Do you know why I ask you to bring me these kine with magically potent blood?”

“I assumed it was for the taste, my lord.”

“A side benefit, to be sure, but no. Were you aware that magical affinity is one of the talents a wizard brings with them when they are reborn as one of us?” She looked shocked. “The power of life is potent, certainly, but there are other powers that a being with the skills of a warlock can use just as effectively. What made you decide that getting Dresden’s name from him was a good way to secure him?”

She looked at me for a long moment, contemplative. “I’ve wanted to serve you, my lord, beyond merely keeping and expanding the Court’s might in Chicago so I started studying the best way to catch and control warlocks. By far the simplest is using their name.”

“The manacles I gave you would have protected you from the power of most of the warlocks available these days.” 

“I wanted to prove my devotion.” 

I watched her quietly. She would need to learn to manipulate politics far more ably than she already did. But Chicago had enough variety to get her feet wet without interfering too badly, assuming that the disappearance of boy could remain quiet. Either way, I wanted her to start expanding her skill set.

“What is our one great advantage over the kine?” 

She considered that a moment. “Our longevity, my lord. We survive more punishment and longer than they can.”

“Good. You have commanded a wizard using nothing more than his name. That tells me that, with hard work, you might be able to use some of the powers available to vampires in the way the wizards can with the power of life. Perhaps not as naturally or as strongly at first, but you have time and can learn.” She was still shocked.

“Do you mean that I can feel this power, this life, without feeding from a warlock?” 

“I do not know. I have not studied sorcery to the point where I can. But I believe others may have. There is a Black Court vampire who has long received the hospitality of our Court. Mavra. She would rather not remain in the backwater forever. If you hosted her in Chicago, she may be agreeable to teaching you the basics of sorcery. You would, of course, be indebted to her, but not so greatly that the alliance would not be beneficial to all.”

“I would like that my lord. Thank you, I would like that very much.”

“Good. Mavra is currently in Belize. I will provide you with a letter of introduction, and you will leave tomorrow night. I imagine you would like to return to Chicago as soon as you can. After you have extended your hospitality, she will follow as she wishes. You must allow her free reign except within the inner workings of your house. She has survived the purges of the White Council, you need not fear she will attract undue attention to you.”

“My Lord, why do you gift me with this responsibility?” Good, she had noticed that this would not be the easiest of assignments.

“The White Court has increased it’s presence in Chicago, sending one of the sons of the Raith house on a semi-permanent basis. From what I understand, there has been some upheaval lately, since the disappearance of Tony Vargassi. I want the Red Court to stand firm in that city, and be able to keep challengers as token players. Phoenix, Seattle, and Dallas are our cities in the west and south. To move east and north in strength, I want Chicago. 

“I could have asked much more of you before I brought you into this existence. I can find another vassal if I must, however, as you say, you are devoted to my Court. If you are going to be making political moves similar to what you have done with this boy, I would have you be able to defend the interests of the Red Court. That requires far more than merely collecting objects of blackmail on already crooked politicians.” I made sure to say it matter-of-factly, so that she would not take offense at my words. I was extraordinarily pleased with how she had acted these last few months.

She seemed to take it well. “My lord, may I bring new ones into this existence? There are several kine that have proven invaluable to my current efforts. Making them subservient would help me fulfill what you have asked of me.”

Clever vassal. She might be able to handle this. I smiled at her. “Bianca, you will shortly have more to keep track of than you can handle. New vampires require, as I am certain you remember, almost constant attention. You may not bring any fully over until after you have a secure hold on your new powers. However, if there are one or two you feel are valuable enough and disciplined enough to control a sustained blood lust, you may bring them partway. They must obey you and not kill until you give them leave to do so. This existence is a gift to be won, not an excuse to revel in bloodshed and violence. Especially if your hold on Chicago is jeopardized. Someone from the White Council will be watching. If the boy was not a member in good standing, that wizard will likely be a Warden. Any abnormality will have them looking too closely at you. Do not give them an excuse.”

“I will not fail you, my lord.”

“No. I don’t believe you will.”


End file.
